Amera felt her hackles raise as the brutish wolf had gotten closer to her. She felt her ears start to ring as he hissed vile comments to her, her ears flattening against her skull as she tried to block out any of his vile commentaries.

Was this but the same wolf that she had, minutes ago, been playing coltishly with? Who had gone out of his way to assure that her plumage was wafting ecstatically while they brawled, that had made certain that she wasn't being injured or maimed by him. The one who had made sure she was comfortable around him, despite his overhead size. Was this truly the brute she'd considered her very best friend but ten minutes ago?

Her canals swivelled forwards as she listened to him talk, her every sense of comfort and joy, every feeling of happiness drained from her features and soul. She'd lost the blood from her head, feeling as though she was about to pass out. It was horrifying. "I will need to return to my clan," she barely whispered to the he.

Bayne was correct. She was pathetic and weak, and she couldn't even try and deny that fact.

She hadn't tried to portray anything but that in her short life.

She looked up once more, only to see fangs crawling up at her, bright and white and aiming for what had to be the most important aspect of her body.

He'd been the one she'd had every sense of accomplishment, of pride and joy with... and now he'd been making such an effort to harm her.

The young fae let out the most horrifying squeal when she felt the sharp fangs hitting the soft skin on her throat, digging in an inch until she'd managed to rip away, skin and blood ripping away with it. She froze still before rising to her feet and turning back in the direction of her home, forcing herself to pace herself quickly back... she had a feeling he wouldn't stop his trying to harm her if she tried to reason with the he.

Bayne bode there observing as Amera fled in anguish, the foul odor of her own blood lingering in the fresh air. He sensed no regret or remorse for what he had done.

In fact, he encountered a sense of control and contentment that he had not experienced prior. The rush of adrenaline and excitement of the pursuit was still rushing through the bloodstream, leaving him reinvigorated.

As he headed back to his clan, he could not help but relive the scenario in the back of his head.

The way Amera had cowered in front of him, the apprehension in her pupils, the bitterness of the blood she had shed on his tongue...it was all so exhilarating. He'd never been so alive.

Bayne observed his clanmates impatiently awaiting him at the exterior of the area they were in as he neared them. They greeted him with inquisitive yips and quivering plumages, eager to inquire about what he had experienced. Bayne bristled them off with a snarl and meandered into the dull distance to obscure his presence from the wolflings his age.

But as he nestled into the warmth of his clan, the memory of Amera's terror faded. He began to doubt his conduct, wondering whether he had gone too far.

He had mistreated his accomplice, and he would never be redeemed.

Do we skip here or resume it more?))

Amera padded back to her clan in a speed of retreat, leaving a tell tale trail of blood behind the same as forced herself into the camp.

What had happened again? She refused his suggestion to flee? And he'd maimed her? These would scar awfully, and she knew that all too well. Blood matted her bright coat, splitting it and finding its way to her skin. He must have gotten such a kick out of it.

All she could reason doing was going to sit in a corner and tend to her wounds, however she'd have to explain what had exactly happened. What had happened to make a clans youngster bleed to such a vile extent.

She would have to tell them about how her dearest confidante, of whome had been in opposing clans, had turned on her. She still couldn't get her head around it. He'd always been such a kind soul - lively and playful, and yet, in a flash she'd had thick, warm blood dripping down her. She'd have to tell them how she'd lost a brawl, one that she hadn't even tried to win.

She'd turned tail and ran.

So much for proving herself to her clan.

As she needed the safe haven that was her territory, she felt a sudden wave of hatred, anxiety and anger wash over her, making her heart thump and stomach churn. She felt woozy, like at any moment she could just spew.

She'd said about an hour ago that she'd trusted Bayne, and no one else. She supposed that meant she couldn't trust anyone now.

The young wolf limped over to their healer, only to be fussed upon by the larger wolves of the pack. The incident had only driven their hunger for war. She on the other hand, had been ordered to calm herself in the corner of the grounds, to lick her wounds and heal.

Though, she knew they'd always be there. A reminder of how little she was to trust people around her.

After four lapsed decades, after his last encounter with Amera, Bayne had matured into an effective, imposing canine with a solid, swarthy overcoat that flashed in the sunshine. His profound commitment as well as the drive had earned him the position as head beta.

Despite his social standing and influence, he served as an isolated brute at heart, not bearing any meandering canine into his modest embrace.

But in his unpretentious abode, Bayne was dissatisfied while Galilahi nurtured him. He was conscious that, as the clan's beta, it was his obligation to mate and bear heirs that would ensure the clan's continuation of life, but he had no inclination to do so. He'd never desired a partner or newborns, and the notion of being tethered to someone else was confining. He cherished the liberty he had as a sole brute, able to come and go as he sought without fretting about the protection of others.

''Sit seated, don't wobble like a flimsy yearling-'' like a stern mother, Galilahi admonished him, her tongue grooming all alongside his banded mane, which was materialized with her froth.

''I told you—clearly, I don't need your tenderness,'' he let out an inconspicuous grumble as Galilahi continued to fawn over him. It wasn't specifically directed at her, but rather a general indication of his disenchantment with the state of affairs.

He believed he could be left alone to roam around the clan as he thought fit, devoid of a mate and future heirs to take care of.

But he understood that was never going to happen. The clan's traditions and norms were unambiguous, and he was mandated to observe them as the beta. He'd have to discover how to bear Galilahi's presence as well as fulfill his mate obligations in order even if it meant forfeiting his own desires and autonomy.

Bayne breathed thoroughly, his eyes flickering out into the expanse of space as he reflected on his continued existence as a sole brute before Galilahi appeared. But he couldn't return to that lifestyle without infringing his clan and responsibilities.

So he remained positioned, letting Galilahi groom him while he ruminated on his dilemma, calmly praying for a way out.

In four dreadful years that had past, Amera had barely become anything more than a punching bag for the youth of the clan, nothing more than a plaything for anyone who desired a brawl.

It couldn't even be considered a brawl, for only one of such beings would be fighting. The other would be relishing the pain of suffering of the smaller canine of the ground.

Bright sandy fur had been ripped to shreds, what was left of it had been matted with blood and mud. She was fine, slim and incredibly underweight, and yet her daily duties of hunting and guarding their borders were shrugged onto the dainty dame.

She hadn't even caught a wiff of Bayne in the passing years, though she couldn't say that she cared. She still carried four deep scars surrounding her jugular, yet another unwanted reminder of how cowardly she'd been when she should have stood up and held her own.

Maybe, if she'd done such a thing like that, her existence would have turned out much kinder to her.

She could only wonder if he'd gotten that clan of his own, the way he'd wanted it. She certainly hoped so. She hadn't embarrassed herself the way she had all those years ago just for him to be such a disappointment as she'd turned out to be.

She could not dwell on that. For now, she had to stalk the perimeters, her bloodied and mangy scent tracking around the winding and riveting path she'd marked. She had not grown or strengthened, yet that awful metallic scent she carried with her seemed enough to deter anyone who'd dared come near their territory.

A life like this one had to be the same for all Omega, right? Destined to isolation and consolidation. A spare scrap of meat if anyone so needed it. Her life would be given up in an instant if it meant saving but one unforgiving soul.

Sometimes, she'd catch a flash of pity in her pack mates' eyes - they'd bring her a mouse, or a small squirrel, and such an act of kindness seemed to be treasured by the dame. Fear still haunted her, however, so no matter the response, the fae would come across as cool and metallic through her features.

Bayne reclined in solitude, his mind acquired with his commitments and all that pressure they imposed. He wanted to dismiss Galilahi's tender preening, but her fragile touch just served to remind him of what he needed to accomplish. He'd always been an isolated warlock, but now that he'd tied the knot with Galilahi, he had to cope up with her compassion.

''Bayne, you know you are unable to circumvent your responsibilities as a partner and beta,'' Galilahi said, recognizing his disapproval.

Bayne returned with a grunt, reluctant to take part in the interaction. He resented the manner in which she always pointed up his responsibilities as if he wasn't fully mindful of them.

''I know you disapprove of warmth, but it's my role as your mate to look after you,'' Galilahi declared her tone understanding.

Bayne was mute, his thoughts consumed with the situation at hand. He knew he had to do his task as a beta, but the notion of being tethered to someone else was oppressive.

''I don't need your tenderness, Galilahi,'' Bayne indicated angrily.

Galilahi drew her tongue back, startled by the remarks he made. She'd always been an affectionate and attentive partner, but Bayne's harshness made her feel undervalued.

''Bayne, I understand you are not interested in romance, but as an integral part of our tribe, you have responsibilities you cannot ignore,'' Galilahi sought to persuade him.

''I'm not particularly worried about sentiments, Galilahi,'' he grumbled. ''I'm concerned with my commitments to the tribe,'' Bayne stated, his voice monotone.

Galilahi felt devastated by his declarations, knowing that Bayne wouldn't ever understand the importance of affection and love in their relationship.

''I know you respect the tribe, Bayne, but you must not disregard your responsibilities as a mate,'' Galilahi murmured in silence.

Bayne bore silent, engrossed in contemplation. He knew Galilahi was accurate, but he could not get himself to put his trust in it. He detested the prospect of being bound to someone else, of providing care for another living thing, of having to give up his own desires and independence.

''Bayne, I know you aren't keen on talking about it, but we need to figure out how we can make this work,'' Galilahi addressed the moment of silence.

Bayne was still his mind whirling with thoughts. He knew he had to come up with an approach for reconciling these opposing desires, but he had no notion how. All he could do was sit in peace and beseech for aid.

Amera padded the dry undergrowth rhythmically, her breath hitching every few minutes as she stopped to contain her unfitness.

She may as well hunt while she was out in the outstanding land, unlikely to be jumped by her packmates. Or, she could sit, lick her wounds, and tend to her sores, but a snack sounded delectable.

She could not tackle a doe, or even a coltish fawn that'd walk into her jaws, for she'd be unable to drag it back to the safety of her camp, where it'd be taken from under her mush.

Her fangs and talons had blunted over the years, yellowed and cracked, so even if she'd had the energy and weight to drag a larger animal back, her canines would not allow her to hook onto the loose skin of the chosen animal's neck.

As a breeze turned on her, she had to gag at the sickeningly sweet and metallic, musty and unclean scent as it came off her. She alone was enough to deter any potential invaders of her small clan.

And prey, for that matter... all she'd attract at this date was vultures and any other kind of vile and repulsive scavengers that ventured around the area.

Her ribs grazed against trees as she weaved along the paths surrounding her, leaving scent markers every couple of meters before heading back into the depth of the clan. She'd need to be quick, but she'd survive off a singular squirrel or gerbil for the time being.

As she sauntered through the clearing, she could hear the word of an arising war between clans - though, it was not as though it was a surprise to the fae. It had been on the rise for decades now. She'd expected war as a wolfling, but it was coming to the truth.

She'd just have to steal a little extra food to stuff her gob that night.

Bayne's displeasure escalated with every brushstroke of Galilahi's slivered froth tongue. Her touch was smothering, and the sound of her utterances frustrated him. He failed to withstand the mental weight of her compassion.

He'd always been an isolated primitive who relished on solitude and individualism. He felt imprisoned now, with Galilahi as his accomplice, as if the barriers had pushed in around him.

Bayne's inflammation neared its boiling point as Galilahi persisted to mouse over him. He couldn't endure being near her any longer.

He promptly moved from where he was without addressing anything, prompting Galilahi to remove her contact, her irises reflecting sorrow and puzzlement.

Bayne shifted far from her, his demeanor serious and his gaze fixated on the coves way out. He was unable to induce himself to stop and look at her, knowing that her emotive statements would only add to his discomfort. He needed a moment to breathe, an absence from the deadlines and responsibilities that were weighing hefty on his shoulders.

Bayne made his route out of the cove with intentional marches, abandoning Galilahi behind. His departure was swift and silent, a physical reflection of his mental distance.

He needed to find solitude in the wilderness, far from the reminders of his responsibilities and the perils of his love life.

His motions emerged more methodical as he advanced farther into the woodland. His mind was a flurry of contradictory thoughts and emotions, swirling within him like a raging storm.

He desired the freedom of a sole canine, but he could not resist the draw of loyalty and allegiance to his clan.

The strain in his tendons loosened a little after each stride, accompanied with an overwhelming sense of resolve. He'd figure out an approach that would reconcile his whims with his responsibilities, to carve out an avenue that enabled him to be true to himself while still fulfilling his responsibilities as a beta and partner.

Bayne's adventure utilized him to the alpha's lair, an area of authority and oversight. He approached with dignity and trepidation, bowing his head in tribute. "Alpha," he stated, his voice composed and serene. "May I scour the Northern border-"

The alpha glanced at him with a penetrating stare, observing the anguish within Bayne's resilient veneer. "Yes, yes you may. " said the alpha. "There have been reports of possible intruders."

"Be on the lookout for suspicious activity and report it immediately."

Bayne nodded, his mind entirely concentrated on the assignment at hand. He was content for the request and for the opportunity to direct his energies on a solid and beneficial project. It provided a little respite from the intricate details of his personal life.

Perhaps, she should give in to every signal nature was giving her, let it take over and reside in a hollowed tree not far from here... but she'd be of use for someone out here, at some point. Even if it were just to feed the fatigued and malnourished puppies that leapt, jumped, and yipped about the clearing infuriatingly. She'd give her life up to that meaning, just if it meant her pack would think something of her.

Amera kept sauntering about until she'd finally found a decent place to rest her limbs, simply flopping on a soft mound of dried leaves. She was exhausted, even from her small wonder.

She was to stay on the entirety of the night, to keep herself there... if she so much as stepped in the camp, she'd be chased out and kept out until early the next morning.

About two stages later, the scrawny fae got up from her resting place, a peckish fever overtaking her. She was cold, and starve rolled through her belly. She could eat grass, or search the area for a log filled with unsuspecting larvae, although the idea of eating such creatures made her stomach roll with sickness.

No, no, she'd save her hunger for later in the day, when she finally arrived back to the safety of the camp, where she could eat away from the wild scavengers that would likely mistake her for the feed.

She padded along slowly, her breath rasping as she moved along, ears flicking back and forth as she listened to her surroundings.

She could only resent that awful sound... her lungs struggling to let her forward, to let her ribs barely move at all. The way her bones creaked with every movement, and her muscles heated with pain every time she sat on them.

She was not old; she had not been worn and bared with offspring - it was simply that she'd given up fighting off with herself. She was in what should have been her prime, though, at a glance you could only assume she was an elder of the oldest most packs.

Bayne's traces resonated across the silent expanse of the northern border as he resumed his vigil. His last encounter with Galilahi lingered in the back of his mind, but the burden of his responsibilities and the concentration on his duties were able to settle his rushing emotions. He headed with a reason, each stride full of surety and resolve.

Although, as he meandered through the dense flora, near the northern border, on the fringe of it, a glimmer of movement grasped Bayne's gaze as all of his senses resided attentive to his environment.

His gaze relocated to the side, grasping a glimpse of a canine in the gloom. A worn-out and sickly-looking damsel that had flashed in his vision the moment he approached the border's perimeter. Bayne's intrigue was piqued, and he halted to take a look at her from his position. He filtered behind a shrub, slipping into the darkness while he observed her heavily. His stern demeanor was unchanged, but his mind whirled with thoughts and assessments.

Even if this damsel had settled in the comfort of her own domain, he was more puzzled about why her appearance was so sickly and the choice to bide here instead of the clan's coves brought him much stupor and pondering.

Bayne, on the other hand, maintained crouched behind the vegetation with his attention riveted on the damsel who was in her own area. He looked at her with distrust and enigma, his austere manner untouched by the spectacle in front of him. He was conscious of the need of respecting boundaries, and despite his interest, he eschewed approaching or resulting in harm to anyone.

Bayne examined the canines' sluggish motions from his covert vantage point.

She appeared to be bearing the weight of her own difficulties her weary physique providing a stark contrast to his composed demeanor. His senses remained resilient, urging him to remain vigilant. He'd grown to be leery of foreign canines, even when they were in their own area.

He studied the circumstance carefully, evaluating every plausible explanation for her presence. Was she a solo tourist who needed an area for the night? Or perhaps an individual of a close clan who is going through something challenging? Bayne's intellect scrutinized every nuance, attempting to comprehend her motives and determine the possible damage she could provide.

A sense of obligation and allegiance to his own clan, however, outweighed whatever empathy he felt. There was legislation to be adhered to in the region of the northern border, and Bayne's loyalty was solid with his own clan.

Time seemed to lengthen as he monitored a close eye on her, to ensure she didn't push farther in the vicinity. His senses resided watchful, and every noise and motion was studied for any indications of imminent danger.

He would not let anything unpleasant occur to his clan, even if it meant maintaining his distance from the weary damsel.

Bayne's austere demeanor indicated absolutely nothing of the thoughts that whirled within his head as time flew. He resided at ease, expecting to see what the canine would do next. Would she depart their region without occurrence, or would she remain and potentially pose a threat?

Throughout his entire stay, Bayne's drive was unwavering. He was ready to strike swiftly and decisively if the situation demanded it, ready to protect his clan and maintain the protection of their borders.

He would remain unseen until then, an enigmatic sentinel in the darkness, ever attentive and steadfast in his devotion to his clan.